


Like the lost catacombs of Egypt

by mwestbelle



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, M/M, Nonstandard biology, Tentacles, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos should have known better than to expect anything in Night Vale would be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the lost catacombs of Egypt

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Bad Touch" by the Bloodhound Gang, because of course it is.

Carlos should have known better than to think anything in Night Vale would be _easy_. But they'd done everything right; Cecil had gallantly filed all of their post-date paperwork, since Carlos still hadn't quite caught on to the intricacies of the legal system or filling in forms without pens. They'd enjoyed a lovely date at the Pinkberry, leaving a cup with two spoons next to the table by the window for the Sheriff's Secret Police since enjoying a treat in front of someone without offering them anything is just terribly rude. Before they left tonight, Cecil had casually mentioned that he'd applied for a fornication license from the mayor's office a few dates ago and it had just today popped out of the toaster in the station break room. Just as a point of interest.

And now they're finally in Cecil's house, in his bedroom. It even has an actual bed, which Carlos was pretty worried it wouldn't. Cecil undoes his tie with a sultry flick of the wrist and says, "How about some mood music?" Carlos kicks his shoes off while Cecil fiddles with a stereo that looks like something out of a 1960s sci-fi film. The song that starts up sounds something like ABBA's "Fernando" being played in an abandoned warehouse with a backing of tribal drums.

Cecil sways his slim hips in a honestly very alluring manner as he crosses to Carlos. Kissing him is becoming beautifully blessedly familiar, the plush slide of tongues and the faint taste of ozone. Cecil moans as he buries his hands in Carlos's hair, full-throated and as rich as any of his radio announcements. Carlos has never had someone treat him like he's some object of sexual perfection before, and he gets drunk on it. 

His fingers seem thick and clumsy undoing the tiny buttons of Cecil's shirt. He expected them to be plastic, but they feel more like bone. It doesn't matter, he just wants it off. Cecil is just as slender and pale underneath as Carlos expected, which is something of a relief. He has two pale pink nipples and a single navel in the respective expected locations, and two hipbones cutting down to his slacks. He has a number of tattoos that pulse faintly along with what Carlos assumes is his heartbeat.

While he's distracted by the tattoos, Cecil shifts a bit, then reaches for his waistband. Carlos stops his hand. "No, please. I want to."

"Oh, Carlos," Cecil says, placing his hands obediently on his head, as though he's presenting himself for a full cavity search by the secret police but much sexier. "Perfect, considerate Carlos. You are incredible lover."

Carlos flushes and fumbles a bit with Cecil's belt. "I haven't...loved you yet. Don't get your hopes too high."

"There is no way you could ever disappoint me, Carlos. You are the most charming and romantic scientist I have ever met, and I just know that our lovemaking will be the stuff of legends. Old Woman Josie will probably livetweet it." Cecil talks the entire time that Carlos is divesting him of his pants, which provides a nice cover for when Carlos tugs the zipper down and is greeted by a bulge that is _squirming_. He had actually expected this too (Cecil fondly referring to his genitals as "they" was a hint), but it's still nice to have a moment to take stock of his reactions ( _not a penis. no? no. okay._ ).

He tugs Cecil's slacks and boxers down in one smooth motion. There's no reason to prolong the inevitable. All in all, it isn't as bad as it could be. In place of a penis, Cecil has four slender tentacle-like appendages in varying hues of purple. They are writhing over one another, waving a little seemingly independently of Cecil's control.

But then Cecil turns away, hiding his non-humanoid genitals from view, and crawling onto his bed, waiting there on all fours with his back arched, presenting himself. "You have to fuck me, Carlos, please, I want you to."

It would take more than tentacles to dampen Carlos's arousal. He's so hard, erection pressing against his unforgiving jeans. He's still entirely dressed, and he's not sure if this is another Night Vale cultural norm that he's helplessly ignorant of or if Cecil is just so _desperate_ for him, so needy, that he just can't help himself. Carlos finds himself embarrassingly aroused by that idea, lust making his cheeks hot. He strips off his t-shirt and walks closer to the bed, closer to Cecil.

"Do you have, uh, supplies?"

Cecil looks over his shoulder, and though his cheeks are flushed a pretty lilac his face is entirely serene. "There's lubricant in the nightstand."

The lube Carlos finds isn't any brand he recognizes and purports to be formulated from "Inhumanely sourced giraffe tears!" but it feels just as slick and smooth on his fingers as any. He rubs two fingers slowly along the cleft of Cecil's ass, teasing and exploring. He's relieved to find that Cecil seems entirely human here, and also very enthusiastic about   
Carlos's explorations. With his free hand, he unbuttons his jeans, shoving them just far enough down his hips that he'll be able to kick them off when he crawls up onto the bed with Cecil.

"Please, Carlos, don't tease me." Cecil moans and shifts eagerly back towards his touch.

Carlos nods, forgetting that Cecil can't see him, and slides his finger into Cecil's ass.

At least, he tries.

Cecil is obviously eager, he is so hot and tight inside, but Carlos can only get as far as his second knuckle when his finger hits flesh. Soft, giving flesh, yes, but unmistakable flesh. 

Cecil moans while Carlos quietly panics, shifting his finger around, trying to figure out what exactly is happening here. He curls to the left and back, and _oh_. He feels like a poor scientist now, pulling out and setting his slick hand on Cecil's hip.

"Cecil, you...you have had anal intercourse before, right?"

"Mmm, I have. I shared a very wicked tryst with Adrian Culpepper back after high school. We'd been on the satanic debate squad together, and it all sort of bubbled into romance that summer."

"Uh-huh." Carlos wishes he had a pen. He wishes he didn't have to make a new discovery about the biology of Night Vale citizens while attempting to have a tryst of his own. "And he had...he was the same as you, physically?"

"Well, yes." The frown is practically audible in Cecil's voice, as expressive as ever.

Carlos hates to hear him frown, hates to disappoint him, but it seems he must. "I can't do this."

"Carlos," Cecil says, sounding stricken. He shifts to the side, somehow both rolling and converting to a sitting position in a smooth motion that Carlos could never duplicate. He's frowning up at Carlos, browns furrowed, and his tentacles lie flat against the bed and his thigh. "I must admit I'm very surprised at you. That is a...a terribly _imperfect_ way to approach sex."

"What?"

"Just because Adrian was the first one to pillage my city, as it were, doesn't mean you have any reason to think me less worthy as a partner. Frankly, I am shocked that a scientist like yourself would ascribe to such a backwards philosophy."

"Cecil, no." Carlos has to cut him off and the best way he knows how is with a kiss. His hands are still cupped around Cecil's cheeks when he pulls back. Cecil looks slightly dazed. 

"That isn't what I meant. I mean...I don't think that you and I are...biologically compatible." He should have realized as soon as he saw Cecil that a being with prehensile genitals would logically have an orifice that required such movement for penetration.

"Oh." Cecil looks down, for the first time, and sees Carlos's erection which, somehow, has not flagged. " _Oh._ It's rather...rigid, isn't it?"

That startles a laugh out of Carlos. "Yes. Very rigid."

"That's a shame." Cecil is still frowning, but his tentaclia seem to be getting active again. "I quite enjoy being fucked. No matter. We will have to improvise." He wraps his hands gently around Carlos's biceps and then, with surprising strength, yanks him into the bed. "Don't worry. I made sure our permit covered the full spectrum of possibilities. More for the possibility that we wanted to get our freak on, but this is just a good a reason as any."

"Oh god," Carlos says. He lets Cecil pull his jeans down and off, leaving them both naked in bed, and then he lets Cecil explore. Cecil traces over the faint definition of his pecs, thumbing at his flat brown nipples and running the edge of his fingernail against the grain of the dark hair that lightly covers his chest. Apart from his head, Cecil does not appear to have any hair anywhere else on his body, so Carlos supposes it's fair that he's interested. It passes fair and becomes marvelous when Cecil decides to trace the trail of hair down from under his navel to his groin, pet the wiry thatch of hair that his cock rises from, so desperately hard and flushed darkest at the head.

"Your body is fascinating," Cecil tells him. Carlos is pretty sure that the slightly unnerving sticky sensation at his thigh are Cecil's groin tentacles feeling him up, but if Cecil is more interested by him, that's just fine. "And I wonder..." Carlos is already stretched out on his back; Cecil climbs on top of him, gently guiding his thighs apart to settle in between. "I wonder," he repeats, "If you can't fuck me...can I fuck you?"

"Yes," Carlos says without hesitation. "God, yes." He starts to look around for the lube, has no idea what he did with it, but Cecil catches his hand and presses it sweetly back against the mattress.

"Let me take care of you, Carlos."

So he does. He lies back and lets Cecil slick up his own tentacles, each one delicately tapered enough that it's easy to start prepping Carlos, working him open. It feels like nothing he's ever experienced before, and he loves to be achieving this singular sensation with Cecil. Sweet, sweet Cecil who chatters happily above him as a tentacle works its way into Carlos's ass.

The song has changed to an empty-warehouse/tribal drums version of "Pachelbel's Canon in D," and Carlos closes his eyes. It only takes two tentacles, twisting deep inside, the tips brushing his prostate, to push him over the edge with a shout.

"Oh gosh," Cecil says, voice hushed and reverent. Carlos opens his eyes to see Cecil staring down at his own belly, the splatter of Carlos's come for some reason giving off a luminous glow on Cecil's skin. _It's never done that before,_ Carlos wants to say, but Cecil is already surging forward to capture his mouth for a kiss again.

They kiss for a long time, Carlos still shifting and occasionally clenching around Cecil's tentacles. He wonders if it always takes this much time for someone with Cecil's biology to achieve orgasm, or if he's been an unsatisfactory partner. Or maybe it's just Cecil. The way Cecil kisses him, slow and lazy, like there's nothing in this world or any of the thousand others that occasionally deposit their citizens in Night Vale he would rather be doing, makes it hard for even Carlos to think of himself as unsatisfactory.

When Cecil does come, it's with a gasp and a strange vibration goes through his tentacles that makes Carlos's cock give a forlorn twitch. He doesn't produce any fluid, though, which is fascinating. So fascinating that Carlos will have to study it tomorrow.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fuck you," Carlos whispers. Cecil hasn't moved, just sort of collapsed on top of him into something that resembles sleep. 

"Don't be ridiculous." Cecil still seems to be asleep, but his voice is clear as day and soothing as always. "It's ever so much more fun to be creative. You are a perfect challenge."

Carlos is silent for a long time, enjoying the warmth that spreads through his chest. But he's struck by something that he has wanted to hear for a very long time. "Good night, Cecil," he says.

Cecil hums and shifts on top of him, but he says it. "Good night, Carlos."


End file.
